


I'm Gonna Tell It Like a John Locke Story

by Marks



Category: Panic At The Disco, The Young Veins
Genre: Amnesia, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-17
Updated: 2011-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-14 20:43:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marks/pseuds/Marks
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer gets into an accident and gets amnesia, forgetting everything that's happened since he was fifteen. That's a lot of stuff, especially when it's Ryan dealing with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I'm Gonna Tell It Like a John Locke Story

**Author's Note:**

> Written for no_tags 2011, for the prompt "Tabula Rasa - Ryan/Spencer."

Ryan's buzz is fast working its way back towards total, pathetic sobriety when his phone rings.

"What the fuck is it?" he answers, not bothering to look at the screen. Alex dropped him off fifteen minutes ago and he's exactly the kind of douchebag who calls you just to have company on his drive home. "Do you need your dick sucked through the phone?"

"No," says the voice on the other end, who's definitely not Alex. "Well, not from you, Ross."

This is when Ryan actually bothers to look at the phone's readout. Brendon. That's unexpected.

"Sorry," Ryan says, managing to sound contrite. "Thought you were someone else."

"Yeah, kind of gathered that." Brendon sighs into Ryan's ear, the same little noise he always makes when he's gearing up for bad news. "Anyway, I'm gonna need you to get your ass to the hospital ASAP."

"What?"

"Spencer's been in a car accident."

" _What_?" Ryan's stomach does the sickening lurch it usually only does when he's had too much Goldschläger.

"His fucking airbag didn't deploy. He was on the freeway and some asshole rear-ended him, and he crashed into a guardrail when he swerved."

"Fuck," Ryan says, already on his feet and hunting around for wherever he dropped his keys when he came in. "Is he...?"

"He's okay," Brendon cuts in, saving Ryan from having to finish his thought. "Kind of. Minor lacerations on his face, some bruising, a split lip. He was unconscious when they brought him in a few hours ago, but he's awake now."

"A few _hours_?" Ryan says. He grabs his keys out of a dying potted plant and heads out the front door. "Why didn't you call me then?" A few hours ago Ryan had been doing bad karaoke to Don't Fear the Reaper, which doesn't count as irony, but Ryan kind of wishes it did. It seems like it should count.

"Kind of had other things on my mind," Brendon says pointedly. "He's up now, though, and he's asking for you. But. Well. It's." He sighs again. "Just get here soon."

"Already in the car." Ryan sticks the key in the ignition and pulls out of his driveway. "What hospital?"

+

Brendon's in the waiting room when Ryan gets there.

"Dude," Brendon says, sounding impressed, "you got here really fast."

"Yeah, well," Ryan replies.

Actually, Ryan had almost been there even faster. He drove like a crazy person and even considered parking in front of the emergency room like they do in movies, but he really can't justify the parking tickets. He gets enough of those by accident.

"How's he doing?" Ryan asks.

Brendon makes a frustrated noise. "The doctors won't really give me any specifics because I'm not next-of-kin, I was just listed as one of Spencer's emergency contacts. His parents are already trying to get flights here and Crystal's going to meet up with them at LAX. So we'll know more tomorrow when they get here. But here's what I do know: you know how I said he's awake and mostly okay?"

"Yeah?"

"I kind of... left something out."

"Brendon."

"All right, so good news first," Brendon says. "Spencer knows he's 23 years old; he knows how to tie his shoes and use a computer; he knows who his parents, his sisters, and you all are."

"Well, that's good," Ryan says slowly, scratching his head. "The bad news?"

"The bad news. He knows how old he is, but his last solid memory from before the crash is from, uh, 2002. The rest is just a big, fuzzy space."

Ryan blinks. His head sort of feels like a big, fuzzy space, too. "So he doesn't..."

"Know me, yeah. Or being famous, or the band at all, unless you count the shit you guys used to do in his grandmother's garage. Or, like, who the president is." Brendon's shoulders sag, and even though they haven't really spent much time together in a couple of years and Ryan's pretty shitty at reading people anyway, he can still tell how sad Brendon is about this. He can't even imagine Spencer forgetting him, no matter how much went down between them. Brendon's probably overwhelmed, too, maybe, which makes sense. Ryan's feeling pretty overwhelmed himself. He thinks about dropping an arm around Brendon's shoulders but decides against it. "So you see why I called you?" Brendon asks.

Ryan nods. "Can I see him?"

"Yeah, of course," Brendon says. He shakes his head as if to clear it. "Come on, we'll get you a visitor's pass."

+

When Ryan gets to Spencer's room, Spencer is sitting up in bed and awake, but looks pretty tired and beat up. There's a bandage taped to his forehead, up near his hairline, and he has shallow cuts on his cheeks and across his mouth. He also has some bruising across the bridge of his nose and under one eye. Ryan has trouble not wincing when he sees him.

"Dude," Spencer says as soon as Ryan closes the door behind him, "you look so old."

Ryan bursts out laughing. "Well, that's the first time anyone's ever told me that."

+

Ryan stays at the hospital all night, dividing his time sleeping fitfully in a chair next to Spencer's bed and out in the waiting room. Brendon refuses to sleep in Spencer's room, saying it would be too weird for both of them.

"How would you feel if you woke up in a strange hospital room and some guy you met once was there, watching you?" Brendon asks. "Creeped out, right?"

Ryan doesn't answer because the answer is obvious, but he brings Brendon some coffee.

Spencer's parents show up just after eight the next morning, both looking frazzled and like they haven't slept, Crystal following behind and trying to calm them down. Ryan's pretty sure she goes to school in Los Angeles or Santa Monica or somewhere else not too far away, and it strikes him that it's kind of pathetic that he doesn't know for sure. He's known Spencer's sisters since they were in diapers.

Brendon hugs everyone and gets them all up to speed, but Ryan hangs back feeling really awkward. "Hi," he says eventually.

"Hi, Ryan," Ginger says and smiles. "It's good you could make it."

Ryan knows it's not exactly the right time and place to apologize for not keeping in touch since the band split up, but he's just glad no one's punched him in the face. Ryan jams his hands into his pockets, and when the Smiths are led to Spencer's doctor's office, he and Brendon follow. No one says anything about that, either, but he stays towards the back of the room anyway.

"Spencer's CAT scans aren't showing any swelling or cognitive impair," the doctor tells them. "That's exactly what we want to see. Physically, he's just going to need a couple of days rest here and then he'll be discharged."

"That's good," Spencer's father says. "But what about..."

"The memory loss? Yes, we're cautiously optimistic that's a temporary situation. Retrograde amnesia occurring after head trauma isn't unheard of, but the nature of his injury means some or all of his memories will likely return. However, the longer his memory takes to return, the more the odds against full recovery stack up."

"What can we do?" Ginger asks.

"The best thing is to tell him about his life. Tell stories, show pictures, play music or watch television shows and movies you know he likes. The only thing to be careful of is reintroducing those memories gradually; it's natural for amnesia patients to become easily stressed out and he's also recovering from his other injuries. It probably would be best for someone he recognizes to stay with him for a time, just so he can go at his own pace and have an easier time coping with his life."

Spencer's parents exchange a glance. "I'll do it," Ginger says. "I can rearrange my schedule at work and stay out here for awhile, since Spencer wouldn't recognize Brendon or any of his other friends out here--"

"I'll do it," Ryan suddenly blurts out. Everyone in the room turns to look at him.

"You sure, honey?" Ginger says. "You don't have to. I know you two haven't been close in awhile."

Ryan tries nodding and shaking his head at the same time, and he can only imagine how that looks. "It's fine. I'm already out here, he knows me." He smiles ruefully. "I don't have any schedule to rearrange. Besides," he says, shrugging one shoulder, "there are a lot of things Spencer's gotten up to that you guys don't know anything about." Ginger laughs a little. "I'll make him call you a lot," Ryan promises.

Brendon shuffles closer to Ryan's side. "I can, you know, fill anything in that you don't know. From now." He looks at the doctor. "I mean, if that's okay. I don't want to stress him out or anything."

The doctor nods. "It should be fine. We don't want him to completely ignore his life the way it is now, and reintroducing people who have come into his life during the missing period is necessary, too." Ryan doesn't miss the way Brendon sags with relief at this. "Anyway," the doctor says, getting up from his desk, "I'm sure you're all anxious to see Spencer."

+

"Did you ever get the feeling that people were just talking about you behind your back?" Spencer says as they all spill into his hospital room. He's grinning as he says it and struggling to sit up as his mother rushes over to his side. "Hey, Mom," he says, letting her hug and kiss him, even though Ryan can see the pain flash across his face as she does this. "Feels like I haven't seen you in forever."

"Only since Christmas," Ginger says. "Not too long."

"Really? I can't --"

"We know, sweetie," she says. "It's okay."

The doctor repeats a lot of what he told them in his office, and Ryan understands why he told them all separately first. It's hard to listen to him talking about Spencer possibly never recovering his memories with Spencer sitting right there, his fists clenched tightly at his side, like he's _blaming_ himself for something. Ryan wants to tell him that he didn't do anything; it's not Spencer's fault some fuckhead made him swerve off the freeway, or that his car chose a spectacular time to have an on-board computer malfunction. He does feel a little surge of pride when Spencer brightens at the news that Ryan will be hanging out at his house for the next few weeks, though.

"Really?" Spencer says. "That's awesome."

"Ryan's not up to much anyway," Brendon says, nudging him. Spencer looks at Brendon like he's noticing him in the room for the first time.

"Bran-- Brendon, right?"

Brendon nods and grins cheerfully, though Ryan can tell it’s a little strained. "That's me."

"Brendon's going to help me fill in whatever I don't know from the last few years," Ryan says. "He's been in our-- your-- the band since you guys were sixteen."

"Cool," Spencer says, looking down at his hands. "It'll just be good to _remember_ all of that."

"How are you feeling this morning?" Spencer's doctor asks.

"I feel okay," Spencer says. "Sore all over. My head feels like it's in a vice. Big space in my head that's still there, and all the memories I do have feel like they're from a real long time ago." He snorts. "Which I guess they are!"

"Well, you'll be able to go home in a couple of days. Do you think you're up for more cognitive recognition tests? The neurologist has some free time this morning."

"Whatever it takes," Spencer says and looks so fiercely determined that Ryan just feels _bad_. They aren't best friends anymore, but it's not like Ryan ever wanted anything to happen to Spencer. It's unfair.

+

Spencer gets to go home on a Tuesday. The injuries on his face are healing quickly and he isn’t complaining of head pain anymore, so he'd gotten the all clear pretty easily.

Brendon hadn't seen any point in sticking around, not wanting to cause Spencer any undue stress, but he'd given Ryan the numbers for his emergency house line and Sarah's cellphone, telling him to call if Spencer needed anything. Spencer's parents are flying back to Vegas that night, and Crystal has class, so they say their goodbyes at the hospital and, even though Ryan notices Ginger having a little trouble letting go, they do eventually leave once Spencer promises a million times that he'll call. Ryan ignores the obvious sigh of relief Spencer makes once they're alone; neither of them has ever been big on people fawning over them, so Ryan gets it.

"You ready to go?" Ryan asks and Spencer turns a brilliant smile on him.

"Never readier."

Ryan smiles. "Well, you get to ride around in a wheelchair until we're outside."

"Lucky me!"

+

Ryan drives to Spencer's house slowly, noticing the uncharacteristic way Spencer grips the passenger side door. It's good Ryan's naturally a slow driver.

"What's up?" Ryan asks, gesturing at Spencer's white-knuckled grip. "Remembering something?"

Spencer shakes his head. "I don't know. I wasn't-- you know, anxious in cars before, was I?"

Ryan snorts. "Fuck no. You know how Brendon and I were telling you about the van and tour buses and stuff?" Spencer nods. "You live your whole life on the road. But," Ryan continues, "you just got into a major accident. No wonder you're a little skittish."

"Yeah, but I can't even _remember_ \--"

Ryan holds his hand up. "Part of you does, so maybe all of you will. It's cool."

+

Ryan's only been to Spencer's new house twice before and only briefly. He's surprised by how crammed with photographs every surface is -- pictures of Spencer's family, them as kids, early tour shots, candids with Haley or Brendon or even Ryan and Jon. It's good for their purposes, though Ryan can't shake the strange feeling that he's giving Spencer a tour of his own house.

"Who's she?" Spencer asks, pointing at a framed picture of Spencer and Haley with their arms around each other. "Too hot to be a girlfriend."

"She used to be," Ryan says, coming over to look. "That's Haley. You guys were together for a long time and met on tour when she went to see some other band. I think she got homesick when you guys were living in Vegas, and you broke up when she moved back home."

"You think?"

Ryan shrugs. "We didn't really talk about it much. It seemed pretty hard on you, but-- but I was going through my own shit at the time."

"Selfish prick," Spencer says cheerily, putting the picture down and moving onto a promo shot of him and Brendon in black suits.

"Kind of," Ryan admits.

They repeat the process with tour shots from their Fever and Pretty. Odd. days, Spencer making fun of Ryan's elaborate make-up and Ryan getting his revenge when they reach Spencer's mullet and mustache stage. Spencer seems to process everything well, though Ryan knows he notices how Ryan keeps avoiding the pictures of Spencer and Brendon alone, or ones with Dallon and his wife and kids.

"Is this getting to be too much for you?" Ryan asks after a couple of hours. "We can stop now and get a pizza."

Spencer nods. "Yeah, I can use a break. Everything you say seems sort of familiar somehow, but I can't-- never mind. Pineapple and ham?"

Ryan laughs. "Man, you haven't ordered that in years. I almost forgot how much you used to like it."

"I _haven't_?" Spencer looks confused. "But it's my favorite!"

"Was. You had a ham incident in Chicago when we were visiting Jon," Ryan says.

"Jon-- bearded, bass player?"

Ryan nods. "Yeah, him. Anyway, you spent two days locked inside a hotel bathroom and I ended up having to share with Brendon instead of you. When you finally got better, you had some sort of pork aversion. Bacon got back into the meat rotation pretty quickly, but as far as I know, ham never made its triumphant return."

"Until now," Spencer says, looking halfway between thoughtful and cracking up.

"Until now," Ryan agrees. "But yeah, we can totally get that. Maybe it will reaffirm your love of ham. Turn over a new ham leaf."

"We can only hope," Spencer says and grins hugely, and it's so familiar that Ryan almost hugs him.

+

Later on, after Spencer has shuffled off to his new-to-him-again bedroom and Ryan's camped out in the guest room, Ryan calls Alex, then Z. He lets Alex make fun of him for ten minutes, which is familiar and nice, then lets himself infodump on Z.

"It's so _weird_ ," Ryan confesses, after catching her up on the last few days. "Like I'm in a time warp stuck halfway between high school and being a grown-up."

"Deep," Z says sarcastically. The two of them went through the most amicable break-up Ryan's ever experienced. He guesses that's what happens when two basket cases get together and don't work out. "But are you okay?"

Ryan shrugs, even though Z can't see it. "I'm okay. Spencer seems okay, too. It just feels wrong that I'm leaving out crucial stuff like, oh, hope you don't mind, but we're not really friends anymore."

"Aren't you?"

Ryan shrugs again. "Maybe we are. I don't know."

"Listen, I know this is terrible to say given the circumstances, but maybe this is an opportunity in a way. For both of you."

"When did you turn into such an optimist?"

"Fuck off," Z says easily. They change the subject to something else then, but Ryan does feel better when he finally gets to sleep.

+

The next morning Spencer wakes Ryan up by breaking into the guest room and sitting on his stomach, which makes Ryan grab the nearest pillow and thwap Spencer with it, head injury or no.

"Make me breakfast, jerk," Spencer says. "I'm sick."

"Sure," Ryan says, shoving Spencer to the floor. "I hope you either like Pop-Tarts or having your house burned down."

"Pop-Tarts sound great!"

Spencer doesn't have Pop-Tarts, but he has bread and Ryan is relatively confident in his abilities to use a toaster, so he goes for that and coffee. Spencer adds enough milk and sugar to win the approval of any hyperactive child.

"Want some coffee with your sugar?" Ryan asks.

Spencer grins. "Let me guess -- I don't like coffee this way."

"Nope," Ryan agrees. "When you turned twenty, you decided that coffee could only be drunk black because that was the way it was meant to be experienced." Ryan pours milk into his own coffee. "We were all a little grossed out by you, honestly."

"Am I always so pretentious?"

Ryan shakes his head. "No, I'm the pretentious one."

"Now _that_ I can believe."

"Some gratitude," Ryan grumbles, shoving toast into his mouth.

"Yeah, I'm real gracious. Thanks for noticing," Spencer agrees, grinning again. This Spencer is so much less jaded than Ryan remembers -- or maybe it's just that this Spencer isn't mad at or indifferent to Ryan. He'd almost forgotten what that was like. "So, I have an idea for today."

"Yeah?" Ryan's only idea had been looking at more pictures together and hoping for the best, so he's open to suggestions.

"Yeah, I want to go for a drive," Spencer says. "I know how, and the doctors said I was okay to get behind the wheel."

"That's great," Ryan says. "Only your car's totaled, and you were scared just being a _passenger_ in my car."

"Got two answers for you, Ry. One," Spencer says, holding one finger up, "we'll take your car. Two, the only way to confront my fears is to face them head on."

Ryan shrugs. "If that's what you want, that's what we'll do."

An hour later, Ryan's handing over the keys to his car and strapping himself into the passenger seat. Spencer seems more confident behind the wheel than he did with Ryan driving, and even though Ryan knows it wasn't really his driving that scared him, he can't help feeling a little miffed. God, he really is an asshole sometimes.

"You know what my last memory is?" Spencer asks. "From before the hospital, I mean?"

"No, what?"

"You pulling up to my house in a beat-up Volkswagen and letting me drive it around the neighborhood, even though I didn't have my license yet. That happened, right?"

"Oh, yeah," Ryan says, laughing. "That shitpile cost me a hundred bucks, and lasted exactly as long as you'd expect."

Spencer hums happily. "I'm glad that's real."

"Me too," Ryan says. "I'd almost forgotten... anyway."

That leads into a game of Do You Remember? with Ryan and Spencer reliving all of their childhood exploits. It's fun, even though Ryan thinks it's kind of cruel to play it with an amnesia patient, especially when Ryan accidentally brings up something that happened during Spencer's fuzzy memory bubble. But it had been Spencer's suggestion in the first place, so.

It's not until Spencer parks his car at some beach Ryan doesn't recognize that Ryan realizes they'd been driving for an hour and he had no idea where they were going in the first place. He's the worst guardian ever.

"Where are we?" Ryan asks as they stumble onto the sand. It's not like there aren't nearer beaches -- they live in L.A. for fuck's sake -- and this one seems pretty secluded. The only people there other than them are a couple of surfers about a quarter-mile away.

Spencer shrugs. "Don't know," he admits. "This place was just at the tip of my mind, you know? And I just knew how to get here. Thought you might recognize it."

Ryan shakes his head and snaps a few pictures of their surroundings with his phone. He texts them to Brendon, asking _Does this mean anything to you??_

He gets Brendon's reply moments later: _SURF BEACH!_ , just as Spencer looks away from the shoreline and back at Ryan, shouting, "I SURF!"

"You do," Ryan says, jogging down to meet him. "I really, really don't."

"I'm really, really unsurprised," Spencer says. "I surf. Awesome."

Ryan bends over to carefully roll up his pant legs, losing his balance when Spencer shoves him into the water. "Motherfucker," Ryan splutters, grabbing Spencer's ankle and pulling him down, too.

They run around on the sand for the rest of the day, making drippy castles where the waves lap at the shore and getting sunburnt because they're both idiots who don't have sunscreen on. Ryan spends most of the time laughing and shocked over how much he missed this.

+

Spencer also drives them back with no problems, so his muscle memory really must be as good as the doctors promised. Ryan plans on having him play the drums soon, just to see if Spencer is surprised at how good he's gotten during the time he's lost.

"Call your parents," Ryan says as soon as they get through the door. "They'll kill us both if you don't check in once a day."

"Will do, captain," Spencer says, saluting. "Wouldn't want to be responsible for your death."

"I'm sure I'll have no problem bringing that about without your help," Ryan says, ignoring the way Spencer narrows his eyes at that. Instead, he goes into the guest room to call Jon.

"Hey, buddy," Jon says, warm and friendly as always. Jon's a constant in Ryan's life no matter what band shit is going down -- even The Young Veins' hiatus didn't do much to damage _them_. Ryan thinks it's a little weird, especially given how hurt Jon was when Panic busted up, like the second time around he was just waiting for the inevitable. "How's Spence doing?"

"The same. Just wanted to keep you in the loop. It's -- I don't know, I kinda feel like I'm getting a second chance here. Or third or fourth," he admits.

"Karma, dude," Jon replies, and Ryan suddenly gets the feeling he called when Jon isn't exactly all there. "The cosmos will always work themselves out."

"If you say so," Ryan says. "Whatever will be, will be?"

"Que sera, sera," Jon agrees.

"I have no idea why talking to you helps."

"Because I'm great," Jon says.

Spencer ducks his head into the room. "Ryan?"

"Hey, I gotta go," Ryan tells Jon.

"Peace be with you, brother," Jon says and hangs up.

"Sorry," Ryan says to Spencer. "Did you need me for something?"

"Yeah," Spencer says. "Can you tell me more about the band? I think it would help."

Ryan bites his lip and nods. "It'll be easier if I show you."

They settle down on Spencer's couch and Ryan gets out his laptop, pulling videos up on YouTube, plus some stuff that's just saved to his hard drive. Spencer takes a minute to be impressed by YouTube, then lets Ryan take over. He doesn't talk much while things play, just lets Brent fade away for Jon, makeup fade away for hippie stuff, Ryan and Jon fade away for Dallon and Ian and skinny ties. Spencer lets Ryan give him the bare bones story wordlessly for awhile, finally saying, "Yeah, Brendon told me about this in the hospital."

"Told you what?" Ryan asks, though he knows.

"That you're not in the band anymore," Spencer says. "He told me about Brent, too, and what happened to your dad."

"Yeah, you-- you came to the funeral with me. It helped."

"Good," Spencer says fiercely, then shakes his head. "Not good, you know what I mean. I'm just glad I was there when you needed someone."

Ryan swallows. This isn't supposed to be so hard for _him_.

"And you're here for me now," Spencer says. "That's all that matters."

"Maybe," Ryan says, but he doesn't sound convinced.

Spencer nudges his shoulder against Ryan's. "So what do you do now?"

Ryan is grateful for the subject change. "After Jon and I left Panic, we started our own band. Made a record, got some good guys together and went out on tour twice, but when we got back, some of our equipment got stolen."

"Fuck," Spencer says. "Did you find it?"

Ryan shakes his head. "But, like, once I was back home it didn't seem to matter. Jon got engaged to his girlfriend, Cassie, and didn't seem too excited about leaving Chicago again, and I wasn't too excited about making music anymore."

" _You_ weren't?" Spencer says incredulously.

"I guess I just burnt out," Ryan admits. "So, like, Jon's recording some solo stuff and I'm really up to nothing at the moment." It sounds so pathetic to say out loud. "I don't know."

Spencer shrugs. "It's just temporary."

Ryan scrubs his hands over his face. "My problems are totally insignificant compared to yours. I wouldn't have even said anything if you hadn't asked."

"But I did ask," Spencer points out. "Ease away the problems and the pain."

Ryan starts laughing. "Amnesia or not, we've really got to update your references."

They fall into silence and wind up leaning into each other on the couch. Spencer's fingers are wrapped around Ryan's wrist and it feels like old times.

+

Brendon comes over the next day, complete with a pile of blu-rays and video games.

"We're going to watch a shitload of movies and play a shitload of games," he announces. "Does anyone have any problem with that?" Both Ryan and Spencer shake their heads.

All the movies are from after 2002 and all ones Brendon knows Spencer has seen before. Brendon and Ryan exchange looks when they catch Spencer mouthing along with dialogue from Iron Man and, hilariously enough, Mean Girls. After that, Brendon hauls out Spencer's Xbox 360 and they play Mass Effect and Call of Duty.

"You're really good at this," Brendon says to Spencer as they mount a campaign against some guys in Tacoma.

"I guess I am," Spencer says, taking another of their guys out.

"Muscle memory," Ryan explains, looking up from his phone. He'd been texting, but half-paying attention to Brendon and Spencer. "It's all locked away in your head somewhere, like driving."

Spencer nods. "Just wish I could unlock everything."

"You will," Brendon says confidently. "You have to."

"Maybe," Spencer says, but he looks dubious.

In the entertainment-laden excitement of the afternoon, Ryan had almost forgotten that Spencer really didn't know Brendon from Adam. It looks like he'd been the only one who hadn't remembered that.

"Turn that shit off," Ryan says, tossing his phone onto the couch and sliding down to the floor to sit between them. "Get out the Nintendo so I can school you two in _real_ games."

He does actually beat the pants off of both of them in Mario Kart, the only game he truly kicks ass at. Once Brendon can't stand having his butt handed to him anymore, they order Chinese food and make fun of the terrible fortunes they all get. All the awkwardness is forgotten by the time Ryan is reading them out loud and adding a flat "in bed" to the end.

"I gotta get going," Brendon says once it starts getting really late. "I told Sarah I'd be back tonight."

"Okay," Spencer says. "I'm glad you came over. Today was fun."

"No problem, dude," Brendon says, slumping gratefully. "Hey, Ryan, can I talk to you for a second?"

Ryan looks up from his phone, surprised. "Me? Yeah, okay."

They go into the front hall together while Brendon pats down his jeans for his keys.

"I just wanted to say you're doing really well."

"Thanks?" Ryan says.

"I admit it, I felt a little weird about having you stay with Spence --"

" _Thanks_ ," Ryan says crossly.

"You know what I mean," Brendon says. "Things haven't exactly been tight between all of us in a long time. But he seems a lot more like himself now than he did in the hospital. Even if he doesn't... you know."

Ryan nods. "I hope he will."

"Me too," Brendon says so sadly that Ryan reaches out to hug him awkwardly. Brendon hugs back right away, though, awkward or not. "Thanks for that," Brendon says.

"No problem." Ryan shuts the door behind Brendon when he leaves and walks back into Spencer's living room.

"Everything good?" Spencer asks.

Ryan nods. "How about you?"

"Thinking about the movies. That Inception thing was a total mindfuck."

Ryan laughs. "Totally."

"Listen, I'm going to head to bed," Spencer says. "I'm kind of beat."

"Okay," Ryan agrees.

"Would you... I don't know, could you stay with me until I fall asleep? I know it's stupid," Spencer rushes on as Ryan's mouth drops open a little. "I just think it would help. I don't really like being alone."

"Yeah, okay," Ryan agrees before his brain even has a chance to catch up.

+

Spencer's bed is big enough that Ryan can safely stay on his side without interpreting Spencer's invitation as anything more than a way to stave off loneliness. He doesn't know if that's a good thing or not, especially once Spencer starts confessing things in the dark. Something about Spencer's voice makes Ryan want to shift closer, to not have so much distance between them, but he thinks that might be one of the worst ideas he's ever had, which is really saying something. Ryan's track record with bad decision-making is really fucking good.

"When I'm sleeping, sometimes I think I remember things," Spencer says. Ryan rolls onto his side, toward the direction of Spencer's voice.

"What kinds of things?"

"I don't know, just things." The sheets rustle and Ryan thinks Spencer's voice gets closer. "Like the things I'm doing feel like they might have actually happened to me, but I don't know if they're real or just dreams. If they're real, it's a crappy way to get my memories back."

"Well, maybe I'll know if they are," Ryan says. "Try me."

"Okay," Spencer agrees. "Like, the way I see it, there's no _possible_ way I've ever met Snoop Dogg."

Ryan laughs. "No, you definitely did. I was there, so I can vouch for it. You even gave an interview talking about how smoking up with Snoop was one of the highlights of your life."

" _Really_?"

"Would I lie about something as serious as your best friend, Snoop?"

Spencer reaches out and punches Ryan's arm in the dark. "So I -- I mean, something about the way everyone's talking makes me think we're not exactly straight edge."

"Oh," Ryan says. "Yeah, I guess that must be kind of weird for you, 'cause --"

"-- Of your dad, yeah. I wasn't sure..."

Ryan figures he might as well get it all out there. "I don't know, after Dad died, I just kind of got over it? And maybe I got over it a little too hard for awhile," he admits. "Which by the way? Is a great way to get everyone super fucking mad at you. But I'm really not as bad now. I still drink, though."

"Well, I'm glad," Spencer says.

"Glad?"

"Yeah." Ryan hears the sheets shift again. "You're not him. You were never going to turn out like him."

"You never know," Ryan says.

"I _do_ know," Spencer says fiercely. "Okay, so apparently I really did meet Snoop Dogg. Maybe other things aren't just fever dreams."

"Yeah, you might really be remembering things," Ryan says. "That's awesome. Give me another one."

"Don't laugh."

"I'm not going to laugh. Why would I laugh?"

"Because I'm having a lot of sex dreams," Spencer says.

Ryan doesn't laugh. He nearly chokes on nothing, but Ryan doesn't laugh. "Are you now?"

"You don't have to sound so surprised," Spencer says, and shifts close enough now that Ryan can feel his body heat all along his side. "It's so weird."

"Oh, uh," Ryan says. "Well, sex is a perfectly natural thing to dream about, so it's not _that_ weird--"

"Ryan, you tool," Spencer interrupts. "Stop doing your best impression of a gym teacher. I don't mean weird like that. I just mean it's weird because I'm not sure the dreams are real. I mean, I don't remember it for real, but I _know_ I've had sex before because it's all totally familiar, and it would be pretty pathetic if I haven't." He pauses. "I have had sex before, right?"

Oh God. "Yeah. You've had sex, lots of it. You're not really fifteen anymore. I've had sex, you've had sex, we've had sex--"

"With each other?" Spencer asks.

"No! Obviously not. Jeez, Spence."

"Oh," Spencer says, and he actually sounds _disappointed_. "So I guess..."

"Did you have a dream about-- about us?" Ryan asks. His voice has climbed at least an octave and he sounds ridiculous.

"Yeah," Spencer says. "But I guess it was just that. Thanks."

Ryan can't do anything but swallow and fall silent. He's quiet for so long that Spencer's breathing evens out, and he rolls right into Ryan, trapping him right at the edge of the mattress. They're trapped together on one side, like they're still sharing Spencer's twin bed when they were way too big to be doing that anymore. Ryan feels like _he's_ the one who's lost eight years.

+

The next night Ryan decides he really needs to go out and remind himself what his life is really like now, so he brings Spencer out to meet his newer friends. Spencer knows Alex from tour, and he's met Z a couple of times, too, so even if it isn't exactly the best memory jog that Ryan can think of, he still tries to justify his actions for the sake of his own normalcy.

Spencer is polite when talking to everyone, though Ryan keeps an ear out when Alex gets that look on his face and corners him. If Alex tries any stupid shit, Ryan will be there to intervene. He doesn't have to worry for long, though, because Spencer excuses himself after about two minutes and winds up at the bar chatting with Tennessee. He doesn't even look unhappy about it. Ryan rethinks the brilliance of his plan.

Z sidles up alongside Ryan and hands him a drink. He doesn't even look down to see what it is, just sips while keeping his eye on Spencer.

"Oh, hey," Z says, "hot drummer-on-drummer action. Neat."

Ryan finally looks in her direction. "Wait, you think?"

Z laughs. "God, you are so obvious."

"I am not," Ryan says automatically. "Obvious about what?" But Z's already walking away again, still laughing.

+

On the drive home, Spencer asks, "I never liked Alex much, did I?"

Ryan laughs. "No, not really."

+

"Hey, Ryan?" Spencer knocks on the guest room door the next morning and comes in just as Ryan's finished getting dressed. "Does Zack have a tattoo of Freddy Krueger?"

"Yeah," Ryan says, tugging his shirt down, "on his leg," which he realizes Spencer says with him. "Christ, do you remember Zack?"

Spencer nods tentatively. "I think so, and not just from pictures. When we were all on tour, a bunch of us went swimming in our underwear because we didn't have suits with us."

"Shit, yes," Ryan says. "You know things."

"I think I lost my virginity in the back of Haley's mom's minivan," Spencer says, sounding amazed and horrified at once, and Ryan can't even verify that one because Spencer refused to give any details beyond the fact that he'd _had_ sex, even though Ryan had pried and pried. "Fuck! I never told you that before."

"Never," Ryan agrees. "You never have."

Spencer breaks out into a grin and he's so glowingly happy that Ryan wants to kick himself for feeling a little miserable. Soon, everything will come flooding back and, even though that's the absolute best thing for Spencer, that means everything will go back to normal and Ryan will be on the outside again. And maybe a while ago Ryan could have convinced himself that that wasn't a big deal, that he didn't need Spencer and Spencer didn't need him, but that was a while ago.

Ryan doesn't want to be on the outside again.

"I'm really happy for you, Spence," Ryan says in a small voice, forcing himself to plaster a smile onto his face. "Seriously."

"God, you're so stupid," Spencer says and takes the two long steps to reach Ryan's side. Then he grabs Ryan's shoulders, bends down and kisses him. Ryan doesn't even have time to process anything other than a series of surprised exclamation points going through his head when Spencer pulls away. "We did that once," Spencer says.

"Yeah, once, when I was fourteen. It was a joke," Ryan says, reaching up to touch his mouth without thinking. "We couldn't stop laughing after, remember? I haven't thought about it much since then."

"I have," Spencer says. "I did, all the time. I never told you, but I _remember_ remembering. I don't know why I never said anything after, maybe I was doing it for our friendship or maybe just trying to save face, but I figure if things are as broken as you said they were, then it doesn't even matter. I've got nothing to lose."

Spencer backs Ryan up until his back hits the wall behind him, stepping in and pinning Ryan's wrists to his sides as he leans down and kisses Ryan again. Ryan groans and opens his mouth, melting into it as Spencer pushes his tongue inside Ryan's mouth. This feels nothing like the stupid kiss they had as teenagers; there's a warm feeling spreading through Ryan's chest and all he wants to do is push his hips into Spencer's and grind down.

Before he has a chance to do that, though, Spencer's pulling away and laughing a little when Ryan moans from the loss. "Yeah, you sure seem like you thought we were always a joke," Spencer says, but he's just teasing and a moment later they're kissing again.

+

Ryan drives Spencer to the neurologist, who'd very excitedly cleared up her schedule when Spencer told her about some of his memories returning. For about ten minutes, Ryan was alone in the waiting room while Spencer had his appointment, but Brendon showed up then, which was good and bad. Good, because Ryan wouldn't die of boredom, but bad because Ryan had had his eyes closed, reliving how Spencer's mouth had felt against his. It was a memory he wanted to relive over and over, hopefully live and in color.

"Hey, man," Brendon says, collapsing in the chair next to Ryan's. "Came as soon as I got your text. We've really got to stop meeting like this."

"Yeah," Ryan agrees, "but I wouldn't worry about it. Spencer's remembering things."

"Really?" Brendon says, brightening. "Like, everything?"

Ryan shakes his head. "Not everything, but he remembers the band. You, Jon, Zack, it's all there."

"Would it be corny to say that I'm really fucking relieved?"

"Nope," Ryan says. "So am I."

They pass the time talking about Brendon and Spencer's upcoming album, about the bands they've been listening to lately, then they trade stupid tour stories until they're both laughing.

"This is nice, right?" Brendon says tentatively after a while, like he's not sure if it's the right thing to say, all things considered. It reminds Ryan of the insecure thing Brendon was when they first met, and makes him think it isn't just Spencer who's regressed because of the accident. They all have, but Ryan's hard-pressed to see that as a bad thing, especially not with him and Spencer being... whatever they are now. Everything feels hopeful and bright and new in a way they haven't for Ryan in a long, long time.

"Yeah," Ryan assures Brendon, reaching over to squeeze the back of his neck. "Feels like a clean slate."


End file.
